In the Palm of Your Hand
by OneDarkandStormyNight
Summary: A simple, mostly plotless story telling what (might have) happened just after the TARDIS vanished from Bad Wolf Bay for the last time, leaving the Human Doctor and Rose Tyler together. There are a lot of things you need to get through an ordinary human life, and the thing you need, most of all, is a hand to hold. Tentoo/Rose.
1. Chapter 1

_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wrote another little Tentoo/Rose fic. I just can't get their love out of my head. I'm so, so sorry._

* * *

**_Take my hand.  
Live while you can.  
Don't you see your dreams are right in the palm of your hand?  
_**

* * *

**In the Palm of Your Hand  
i**

The sound of the TARDIS was the most beautiful thing she had or would ever hear in all her life. Since the first time she'd heard it, so long ago, even the thought of it was like a touch of hope. She had waited for so long to hear it once more—waited for the time when she would be able to hear it over and over again, for as long as she could, for the rest of her life.

Now, the sound of the TARDIS was the most confusing and tragic thing she'd ever heard.

Her mind spun as the familiar blue box disappeared into nothingness, taking him with it. Just like that, he was gone again. This time, there had been no bridge into the Void, no violent extraction that would separate them against their wills, no tiny little hole that would just barely let him say goodbye. He had had the choice this time, and he had chosen to go.

She didn't feel the presence at her side until something solid and warm took hold of her hand. It was so familiar, so _real_, that her fingers automatically molded themselves around the strong hand, her thumb stroking the knob of bone at his knuckle like a reflex.

She looked away from the spot where the PULL TO OPEN sign had been, knowing that she wouldn't be able to place it exactly ever again once she did. He _looked_ completely familiar, too. His hair was wild (no matter how he went on about the work it took, she knew he really just let it do whatever it wanted) and his jacket was all neat and fitted on his shoulders (she had always insisted he looked good in blue)….

She abruptly realized how she was thinking—like he was the same as the one who had left…like he hadn't left at all.

He must have seen something in her face—though she didn't know what, as she felt she looked completely blank—because the uncharacteristic solemnity loosed from his eyes and a little half-smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

An answering smile started to form, but then it cut off when she glanced back to where the TARDIS had been.

It was hard to tell which one of them let go their hands first, but she could still feel his eyes on her until Jackie, always so content to accept things as they were and keep going, announced loudly from behind them,

"Your father's calling to get a cab to take us to the nearest town. He'll send a zeppelin to meet us there. We'll have to walk to the road, no thanks to that other you for dropping us off here, practically in the middle of nowhere. You always have to do this sort of thing, don't you? Never heard of a little thing called _consideration_, have you?"

He pulled his heavy eyes away from Rose and met Jackie's green-blue gaze; what he saw there didn't match the tone of her voice, and the remarkable woman who never let him get away with anything smiled with rare gentleness at his utter gratitude. Jackie Tyler had accepted him, twice, completely, despite having no reason either time but her daughter's word, and here she had done it again without even having that. He could almost kiss her…well, not quite.

Anyway, there was something more important to think about at the moment.

"Rose."

At his quiet voice, she faced him once more, and her expression hadn't changed even the littlest bit. There was terrible loss in her eyes—not quite grief, but something close to it—and he hoped with all his (_single human_) heart that it would dawn on her and she'd understand soon, because he really, really hated seeing that in her in any form, especially over something like this.

But her face stayed the same—shadowed, a bit lost, unreadable—as she looked over to her mum and realized that it was time to go, really go and leave behind Bad Wolf Bay forever.

He was so used to taking the lead and being followed, but this time he waited for her to move first. When nobody was looking, he glanced back and worried for a moment about what the other one would do with himself when the Doctor Donna was inevitably erased…and for all the many, many years that would always follow.

_Good luck_, he thought, _and goodbye._

* * *

Jackie rattled on for practically the whole walk to the road, which, for once, was good. She told him all about the tiny ways this universe was different, and about every room in the Tyler mansion (even though he told her, repeatedly, that she didn't have to describe the kitchen in such great detail because he'd worked in it once), and about how little baby Tony reminded her of him with his knack for making messes. He carried on the conversation with the right amount of enthusiasm, because if there was one thing he could do that was absolute proof of the Doctor, it was _talk_. But there was always Rose, walking just over an arm's length ahead, apparently either not hearing them at all or listening intensely and choosing not to acknowledge anything. He let it go on without trying to expand their chatting to her. Nine hundred years, he could stand a little more patience.

They met the cab at the road. By nightfall they were back in London, and his patience had turned to a flutter of unease.

**To be continued**

* * *

_Title taken from the song Ordinary Day by Vanessa Carlton, a song which I think was written just to be the perfect Doctor/Rose song._


	2. Chapter 2

_Since my dear, stupid workplace decided not to give me any hours for two weeks and then offer to "let me" come in from 10p.m. until 5 in the morning, I figured I better upload this now. I hope you're all having a good night (or morning, depending on where you are), and thanks everyone who followed for taking an interest! Just two days left until the Fiftieth, you guys! The Doctor Who Tumblr sent me a virtual party package, and even though I'm the only person who watches it in my family, I'm totally making Dalek cupcakes Saturday to celebrate. My family WILL get into the Doctor Who spirit. They will have no choice._

* * *

**In the Palm of Your Hand  
ii**

Pete Tyler was an open-minded individual. Anyone who would spend so much time and money on multiple business risks of invention would have to be, but this particular man went above and beyond. His encounters first with the Cybermen, then subsequently with a nine-hundred-year-old alien from a parallel universe, the daughter he'd never had who had the same name as his dog, and finally the parallel-universe equivalent of his dead wife, all had made him more than aware of a bigger picture. Still, even that kind of imagination took just a little while to wrap around some things.

As Jackie gestured excitedly and Pete listened to whatever she was saying with intense concentration, the Doctor (for he _was_ that; he had to be) took the opportunity to let his eyes roam around the large room, making note of all the new additions that bespoke of the family Pete had never really had before. Even in the dim light, he could see flowers adorning every tabletop in sight, a pink jacket with a little tear in one pocket draped over a chair, and infant's toys scattered on a soft blanket. This was the home of people he loved. This was humanity. He could have his place here, too, with his things among theirs. That sort of life could be his now.

Rose kept casting furtive glances across the room at him, and on the third time he met her gaze directly.

She looked away—not too quickly, but quickly enough.

Then Pete nodded to Jackie and they walked over together. The two men regarded each other, and then Pete smiled in a way that gave the Doctor odd flashbacks of a cluttered apartment full of eccentric inventions in 1987.

"Welcome back, Doctor," he said.

The Doctor took the steady hand that was offered to him.

"I would be happy to pay you for letting me stay here," he somehow felt he should say, "but I never carry money…and I'm a bit…ah…well, homeless. Literally all I've got are the clothes I'm wearing. I can offer you a complimentary breakfast tomorrow morning with whatever you happen have in your kitchen, though. I'm a very good cook."

To his own ears, his joking sounded a bit awkward and so very beautifully human.

"I'm sure you are," Pete chuckled honestly.

"Thinking you have to pay us—that's utter nonsense," Jackie was quick to speak up (_always_). "We've got plenty of room. This big house could do with another face."

"And with all you've done for us—all of us…" Pete let the sentence go unfinished, but the warmth was clear.

The Doctor looked at Rose, who stood at her mother's elbow. She didn't seem as certain.

"And on that note I think we've all had a long enough day of it," Jackie stated. "I'm sure Torchwood and Harriet Jones and all the rest of the world's secret organizations are going to be demanding explanations left and right tomorrow. I say we get a good night's sleep. I'll get you some of Pete's old pajamas, Doctor. Rose, why don't you show him to the guest room beside yours? It might as well be yours, now, Doctor, if you like it okay."

Rose looked up at him and smiled, and it was real enough, but more like how a girl would smile at a stranger who would be leaving their home shortly and may or may not become a friendly acquaintance before he did. It was hesitant and unfamiliar. It was nothing like the one he wanted to see.

"Mind Tony," her father instructed. "He's asleep in our room. Quiet when you go by the door."

_No trouble there,_ the Doctor though ironically, as Rose simply motioned for him to follow her from the room.

Jackie relaxed against Pete's side as they watched the two leave, both feeling an aura of peace settling over their household at last. Even having lost Mickey, it still felt like the one person who had been missing for too long was home at last.

* * *

"I'm really excited about meeting your mum's new baby." He stopped briefly mid-step. "Well. Don't remember ever saying that before."

He took a couple of quicker steps to catch up with Rose, who didn't stop to reply.

"Please tell me your mother's not dressing the poor child up like the other Jackie did her terrier. I didn't miss the bear ears and claws on that cap and gloves at the door. If we didn't have you for a testament to her child-rearing I'd be a slightly worried for defenseless little Tony."

He watched closely, and was doubly rewarded for his trouble.

"Was that a smile?"

She kept walking, but he knew he'd won this round, and the tightness of his chest eased a bit.

"You smiled," he told her, singsong. (1)

He expected a denial, either real or playful, but what he got was a long, deep, and even slightly warm sidelong glance.

He couldn't have kept the smile off his face if he'd tried.

* * *

For the three minutes, he sat in the unfamiliar bedroom, staring at the unfamiliar navy blue pajamas folded neatly at the end of the bed and listening to the unfamiliar silence all around him. The TARDIS was always humming, always letting him know that it was alive, and that _he_ was alive. He probably wouldn't get used to this complete stillness of the sleepy estate for a long, long time.

For the next seven minutes, he stared at the healthy cutting of the TARDIS that stood out amongst the ordinary human things on the nightstand; its brownish-bluish surface reflected the light of the moon from the window like a still life masterpiece. (2) He thought of all the many years he had spent rattling about space in the bigger-on-the-inside walls, of all the places he'd seen and all the faces he'd loved. Then he thought of a brand-new life in a brand-new TARDIS, one whose chameleon circuit he would have to disconnect and alter himself to make it look the same, and all the new places he could go and faces he could love in a brand-new universe. There wouldn't be so many dozens of companions this time, though. This time, there would only be one—one permanent, anyway, the one that would always, always be with him. One Type-40 TARDIS with one Doctor and one Companion. One life spent together.

The way the moonlight glittered on it, it was like this little unborn TARDIS was just as excited by the idea as he was. He took heart in it and stood to his feet with newfound energy.

* * *

"I like your jimjams. Very...rosy."

He could see by the way she jumped that he'd startled her, and he leaned casually in the doorway, preparing for a much-welcomed verbal match with a playful smirk. This was his companion—his _Rose_, and with visions of their future filling up his imagination where the terrible loss of their separation had been for the longest time, he was ready just to sit and talk the whole night away.

But his smile—so easily magnified by the sight of her too-big pink pajamas—faded with the thoughts of his dreams as soon as he saw her wiping at her face, attempting to hide her wet eyes behind the open door of her wardrobe.

"Thanks," he heard with a little fake laugh, and he had the feeling she would have said more if her voice hadn't been so obviously shaking.

Rose was crying. His Rose was crying over the Doctor—probably because she felt she was the only one trustworthy enough to take care of him, and she knew he'd loved her just as completely in return, and now she was so frightened that he might possibly be on his own again without her…but none of that made it any easier to see. Especially since she was right—sort of, almost.

"I just wanted to say good night," he said, and it was only a half-lie; he'd wanted to say so much more, "and thank you for…the extra toothbrush."

She peeked out from behind the door, obviously hoping the tears were gone from her eyes, but they weren't. She never could fool him when she was upset.

"Yeah, 'course. Goodnight."

There was an awkward silence, and that was certainly something that had never existed between them before—not once, in all the years they'd been together. There had hardly even been silence at all, but now there was this.

"Sorry," Rose said, after a new heartbeats and a surrender to hide the tears. "It's not….It's just I thought….I mean, I spent all this time thinking….Please, I don't want you to…" Finally the tiny sob stuck in her throat, cutting her off. "Just leave me alone, please? Just for a while. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah? Then we'll talk, maybe…figure something out? Just go for now?"

He wished she wouldn't ask. He wanted to stay. He wanted to hold her close and shush her crying with babbles about how much fun they were going to have and how everything was all right and he was here—he was _right here_. He could do that now. He could hardly believe it, but he actually _could_. He could show her love like that without anything holding him back. He could love her completely, the way the both of them had wished was possible.

He did already. He probably had from the moment he felt the single heart beating in his chest.

"Goodnight, Rose."

This time, he was the one avoiding her eyes as he turned away.

**To be continued**

* * *

(1) Reference to the _Children in Need: 2006 Doctor Who Special_.

(2) Given to Tentoo by the Tenth Doctor in the missing scene from _Journey's End_.


	3. Chapter 3

_This was sooooo much fun to write but it took a while to get it how I want it (which is why I'm so many days late updating, sorry). I hope all of you in my country had a great Thanksgiving and a good start to your Christmas season! (Even if we are losing Matt on CHRISTMAS DAY. Seriously, BBC.)_

* * *

**In the Palm of Your Hand  
iii**

He did not go to sleep.

Instead, he spent a long, long, _long_ time standing in the dark, staring at the full-length mirror, tracing and retracing all the places where the bluish glow of the moon defined all the contours in one side of his face. He could find no change. He looked as young and slim as ever.

He thought of every day since his regeneration (or, actually, the one before this last one)—of Rose's face when he'd first changed, of how it had felt when she'd accepted his invitation even though he was different from the man in the leather jacket she'd known, of his favorite books and his favorite foods and why he loved it all, and of every decision he had made between that time and now. With every memory, he looked deep, deep down inside himself and thought of what he might do differently.

He had to be sure. He had to _know_. He couldn't sit there, declaring to everyone around him that he was the Tenth Doctor, trying to convince _Rose_ that he was, if he really wasn't him. Pete and Jackie had accepted him quickly enough, but they hadn't known the Doctor like Rose did. With the way she looked at him….

He saw the abject worry darken his eyes in the mirror.

Human emotions were complicated things. He knew that probably better than anyone else in the universe. But he couldn't just assume that she was simply confused by her feelings and she would sort it out and see him properly, because there was always that possibility—as much as it ached inside him to think about it—that no matter how he felt he had hardly changed at all, maybe he had. Maybe she was seeing what he couldn't, having convinced himself that he was still the same man. Maybe he wasn't the Tenth in anything but looks and experience now. Maybe his human heart made him no Doctor at all.

And though it broke his heart—just the one now—he had to take a deep breath and admit that maybe he wasn't good for her anymore. Maybe he would have to let her go too, just in a different way than the other one had at the shore. Maybe his goodbye would have to hurt worse, and he'd have to learn to be lonely all over again in a different world than the one he'd known, one where Rose was there but they could not be together. He'd find his way through. He always did. But that kind of future wasn't any more inviting than that awaiting the Time Lord Doctor in the other universe.

Maybe he should have known not to dare hope that, after nine hundred years, he might have this.

Even with his Time Lord mind, he had no idea how many minutes passed this way, but in the end, he relaxed his tense shoulders and held his head high. He stared at himself in the mirror with renewed strength, unafraid to look into his own eyes, because he'd found it—everything that made him different than before but also the same; it was all categorized and filed neatly in his head now, the same way it had done with each regeneration.

The first thing was that he was just as clever—oh, yes, _was_ he still clever. _"Clever as paint," _that was still him. But perhaps, he had to admit, he was easier distracted now with a human's sadly short attention span. He was also probably more likely to be rough and sarcastic now if the situation demanded it, and perhaps a bit sassier in the everyday, with Donna's spirit blending with his words in his head; it wouldn't help with his rudeness, he concluded wryly, but it might make his thought processes twice as fun.

No matter how he might sound all sort of rough, though, his choices would still be the same. Compassion and forgiveness were still his greatest assets, but no second chances after he'd shown mercy once; he was still that sort of a man.

He didn't like ties anymore; he liked T-shirts. He still smiled with one side of his mouth. He might start combing his hair down flat instead of sticking up. (1) He still loved his trainers, and he would absolutely get a pair of useless glasses as quickly as humanly possible because he still didn't need them but glasses were brilliant. He didn't want to wear quite so much brown; blue was a better color, like the TARDIS he'd grow.

He still wanted to travel but now he craved a home more than ever. He would still use the words _allons-y_, _molto bene_, and _brilliant_ at any given opportunity. Fun was still his intention. Helping was still his motivation. He still believed in the right of all things to live. He still despised war and death. He still wasn't fond of cats. He still adored humanity. He still loved to talk. He still _really_ loved to talk. He still loved Shakespeare's works and 3D movies. He still loved Rose Tyler most of all.

Cleverness over violence was still his way. Hospitals still gave him the creeps. Bananas were still good. Little cakes with edible ball bearings were still better.

For some reason, he really wanted to try fish fingers with custard. He wasn't quite sure about where that one came from. Just a regenerative quirk, he guessed.

He was sure about one thing, though. He was the Doctor. Not just that—he was the _Tenth_ Doctor. Or maybe he could say Ten-and-a-Half. Ten-two. Ten_too_—because he hadn't lost anything. He'd only gained things. He was more than he'd been before. He was all of Donna's best traits as well as his own bad and good ones. He was all of humanity's best traits.

He was the Human Doctor. He was good for Rose—better than he ever could have been before. He was _still him_, with all his own mistakes and his regrets and his victories and his strengths.

He'd never been happier to admit that, as he let his eyes shine at himself in the mirror. He would gladly have it all if it meant having Rose as well.

Now, he thought as he fastened the top button of the blue jacket, the tricky part….

* * *

When the quiet rap came at her bedroom door, Rose was torn between pretending to be asleep and facing who she knew was there. She'd never been a coward, though, and so she sighed into her soft pillow and turned on her lamp, trying to decide if coming back after she'd sent him away was something the Doctor would do or not.

"I understand," were the first two words from him, as soon as she opened her door to find him there. "I understand, Rose, honestly I do. You're confused, and you feel lost; you've been looking for the Doctor for such a long time, and now you're left with something that you don't even understand, and you don't know what to think anymore."

She didn't stop him or look away from his earnest brown eyes. Anyone could see he was right.

"I want you to know," he went on, more quietly, "that whatever happens—however long it takes you to sort it all through—I won't try to make you feel anything for me; I really won't. I've always let you decide, and that won't change now, I promise. But—"

It was only now, in his second of silence, that Rose realized how her heart rate had increased.

"—just…you accepted me, before, remember?"

She could never forget that explosion of fiery golden light and the first time she ever saw the handsome face she would come to love even more deeply than the one before it.

"You thought the same thing then. Different circumstances, maybe, but still the same basic problem. You don't think I'm him. You don't think I'm _your_ Doctor, the proper Doctor."

She blinked in surprise; those had been almost her exact words to her mother back then, all those years ago, when she'd been looking at the unfamiliar face sleeping in their guest bedroom and thought she didn't know him. _This face_, she realized. She'd been looking at _this _face back then.

"But you gave him a chance," he was saying, his gaze more fervent than ever but still somehow so very gentle. "You gave that stranger who replaced _your_ Doctor a chance."

"_So I'm still the Doctor, then?"_

"_No argument from me!"_ (2)

The words drifted through her memory like a sweet breeze.

"Look at me, Rose." He moved half an inch closer. "I know that you're tired, and that it's hard for you to understand, so don't try to for now, but…I'm still me."

"_You're still you?"_

"_I'm still me."_ (3)

"You think I've left you, but I haven't. I'm _here_. I'm right here, and I meant what I said at the beach. I _really_ did."

With the look in his eyes, she believed him.

"All I'm asking for is the same chance you gave the Doctor before. Just a chance, that's all. It's your choice."

All the urgency had left his voice as he took a tiny step back like a gesture of surrender.

"Whatever you decide to do, just know that I am still here, and I meant every word I've ever said about how I feel for you. If you can't be sure of anything else, be sure of that—that this man means what he said, and I always will. Good night, Rose."

The floor creaked a bit as he moved back toward his room without demanding any reply from her. With his every step away, Rose processed a bit more of his words, until she halted him just as he turned into his doorway.

"Will you say it again?"

He turned instantly at the sound of her voice and a very familiar look of deep thought knitted his eyebrows together.

"Good night…?"

"No." She couldn't help a tiny giggle, despite everything. "What you said on the beach—say it again?"

His eyes softened and his voice was as sincere as it was when he'd whispered in her ear only a few hours before, his expression just as sure and calm.

"Rose Tyler," he said, and he hadn't been the one to say that before, but it sounded exactly the same as the other's voice so she could almost believe he had, "I love you. I would give everything for one life together."

It was as breathtaking as it had been then.

He just smiled softly and turned to his room, like he'd been saying it every night before bed for years.

* * *

She leaned against her closed bedroom door for a grand total of thirty seconds, staring breathlessly at the wall, before it hit her.

"Oh, my _god_!"

Her cry rang out just before the slam of her door against the wall as she flung it open.

**To be continued**

* * *

(1) *whispers* Sort of like Donna's.

(2) Reference to _The Christmas Invasion_.

(3) Reference to _Journey's End_.

* * *

_I've always thought Tentoo was whispering in Rose's ear for a bit too long just to be saying "I love you," and the thought that that was what he was going to say in _Doomsday_ before he faded just got me. Nine hundred years of time and space travel, with no rules or responsibilities, and he was willing to give up everything he knew and loved for her-and _did_ give it all up, in the end as the Human Doctor. I just love it.  
__The sweet stuff is next! And thanks so much for all the follows and the reviews! I really appreciate that you took time to read this._


End file.
